


Double-Sided Tape

by changdictator



Category: iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, warning: fucked up bobby, warning: mildly fucked up hanbin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6205285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changdictator/pseuds/changdictator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanbin’s the sharpest tool in the shed, but he still can't get a scratch on Jiwon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double-Sided Tape

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what editing means and i don't know how to not write ikon as fucked up people so i'm... really... sorry.

“That’s odd. I don’t think there was ever a Kim Jiwon in my year,” says Hanbin. “And I would’ve heard of you for sure, if we ended up in the same college.”

 

In fact, Hanbin’s only heard of one other person from his high school. How Jinhwan described him, Hanbin can't remember precisely. It went something like, charming, sadistic as fuck, don't go near him with a five-meter pole--which, of course, Hanbin doesn’t need to worry about. The Kim Jiwon standing in front of him looks like he’s two embarrassed coughs away from bleating his way into a newborn lamb.

 

“I was a year ahead of you,” Jiwon explains. He gives the lock a jiggle, then quits fiddling altogether and rams his shoulder on the door. It swings open, one of the hinges giving way with a rickety groan.   

 

The apartment isn’t staggering. Size of a closet, dimly lit, creaky wooden flooring. It seems pretty on par with what Hanbin expected from--what was it again--athletic scholarship, basketball, or football, or something. 

 

He’s too drunk by now to remember how exactly Jiwon had introduced himself. All Hanbin can recall from the party is spilling a bottle of vodka on Jiwon’s shirt and the scratch-lottery-esque appearance of Greek god abs that subsequently goaded him into, you know. _This_. Standing in a stranger’s apartment, dicking up life choices, an inconspicuous hickey on his neck and a handful of free Health Center condoms in his pockets. Is this self-destructive behavior out of character? Sure. But in the spirit of being unbelievably wasted, can he give a flying shit? Nope.

 

In any case, the place smells like dirty socks and laundry detergent and maybe seven bottles too many of beer, which only confirms Jiwon as one of the duller tools in the shed. Not that it would be a problem, no. Hanbin’s not here to study group. He’s here to get wrecked.  

 

“How did you know me, then?” Hanbin asks. He tails Jiwon into the bedroom, where Jiwon’s plopped down on his bed, rather casually, as if they were there to discuss the weather.

 

“Hey,” Jiwon says, tossing his windbreaker across the room. Then he does the same thing with his still-damp white tee and that's when Hanbin starts having hard time listening because, damn it, Jiwon’s unintentionally flexing his abs. Which is rude as fuck. And hot as fuck. And Hanbin can't peel his eyes off them for the life of him. “Everyone knows the student body president. Besides, you had your face on the poster at the principal’s office.”

 

“I see. So you must’ve wound up there often?”

 

“More often than my mom would’ve liked, I guess,” Jiwon grins, a right idiot. He tugs Hanbin closer, a hand coiled lightly around his wrist. Hanbin can see the line of his cock bulging from his jeans already, half-hard and heavy. He should probably put up more of a fight, but what the hell, church boy’s got a horse cock, and Hanbin might be dumb as balls off eighteen shots of vodka, but he's not near dumb enough to say no to that.

 

“Didn’t anyone teach you better,” says Hanbin, throwing one leg over Jiwon’s pelvis, straddling him as he shoves Jiwon down into the bed. It’s hard to make out exactly what kind of expression Jiwon has, face buried in shadows. Hanbin can hazard a guess. People like Jiwon are open books, a straight wire from their head to their pants.

 

If he wants to, Hanbin can ruin him in a second.

 

He does. The moment he grazes his ass over Jiwon’s erection, Jiwon’s already pawing at his tie, grunting out in a slurred, laughing garble, “No, but you can always take the initiative.”

 

Because he can, and because he’s actually a dick, Hanbin answers him with a slap on the hand. Jiwon’s smile goes blank real quick when Hanbin, in the humorless, sharp tone he’s been polishing up for months, says, “Listen.”

 

“Rule one: I go on top.”

 

Beneath him, Jiwon gulps visibly. He nods, hands finding their way around the back of his thigh. That’s when Hanbin realizes how big his hands are--no, he registered it before, when Jiwon cradled his face in an attempt to kiss back at the party--but Jiwon’s got his entire leg engulfed in the palm of his hand and, fuck, Hanbin just can’t seem to get his thoughts in a line today.

 

“Two: I come first.”

 

Whether or not Jiwon actually understood what Hanbin said is questionable, considering he’d spent the entire time grinding up at Hanbin for traction. He’s so easy. Church boys are so easy.

 

So of course Hanbin, who is having the time of his life taking the piss out of Jiwon, must make sure. “You heard me.”

 

“I won’t come until you do,” Jiwon repeats. He's totally obedient, docile, and moaning helplessly as Hanbin palms at his cock. It almost makes Hanbin sorry, the way Jiwon's so desperate for attention. And just as Hanbin's leaning in to kiss him his condolences, Jiwon hooks one hand around the base of his neck.

 

The next thing, he’s got Hanbin yanked down close. Close enough to let Hanbin feel the heat of his exhales washing up against his lower lip and then--closer still. His lip grazes along Hanbin’s, a slow, dragging touch. Hanbin wasn’t expecting this, not at all. Not from some boy who can’t even manage a proper self-introduction.

 

It's not bad, though. He likes it, how starved he’s got Jiwon looking beneath him, eyes glazed over, blank with arousal. Only before Hanbin can manage any sort of smart remark on the matter, Jiwon’s got another arm around his waist and--

 

“--the fuck,” Hanbin yelps, pitches too high, as Jiwon throws him off and onto his back.

 

“Oops, sorry,” Jiwon says, flat and lifeless. They both know he doesn't mean it in the least. “I’ve never done this before.”

 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t test it out on...” Hanbin starts, but then Jiwon’s already climbed over him, and whatever it was he wanted to say vaporizes instantly out of mind. Put in context, with the way Jiwon’s staring at his mouth, whatever Hanbin had to say probably wasn’t important anyway. "Anyway, don't do it again."

 

Jiwon nods like he's terribly apologetic, despite the implicit understanding that he's just doing it to get laid. But that's cool. Honesty's the best policy. Hanbin tugs the rest of his tie off, gets it about half-way slung off the bed when Jiwon catches him by the wrist. 

 

“What?”

 

“I have an idea,” Jiwon says, then gathers Hanbin’s wrists together with one hand--one ridiculously big hand--and wraps the tie around them, and again, and Hanbin squints up at him, utterly unimpressed.

 

“Hey, you're not seriously planning on tying me up right? Because if I wanted to see that, I'd have rented a 1970s porn flick,” Hanbin chides. 

 

“No fun?”

 

“Nope, zero, zilch."

 

Jiwon sits back for a second, thinking quietly. Then he pulls off his own belt and uses it to replace the tie. “Now?”

 

“Just because it’s leather doesn’t mean it’s kinky,” Hanbin says, on the inhale of a sigh when Jiwon stuffs the tie in his mouth.

 

The whole tie. Balled up, all shoved in, _too much._ Hanbin’s choking, gagging on it, far too shocked to make a noise.

 

Without a word, Jiwon undoes Hanbin's trousers and grabs Hanbin by the shoulder and fucking--look, Hanbin works out, alright. Everyday. So no, Hanbin’s not _weak_ , but Jiwon’s got the superhuman strength of a centaur, and he’s tossed Hanbin on his hands and knees like a chew toy. Then, before Hanbin figures out what's happened, his pants are already piled around his knees and his shirt's hitched up to his fucking nipples. 

 

Obviously, the move doesn’t sit well with Hanbin, who has only one personal code of conduct in life: to never bend over for anything, fate, god, or Greek god moron. Only, hard as he struggles, Jiwon’s still manhandling him like a slab of rubber. And when Hanbin finally pulls the tie back out of his mouth to yell, “What the fuck--,” Jiwon is so impossibly strong he simply unties Hanbin and reties him again, hands behind his back this time. Then, potentially because Hanbin’s yelling too much, he stuffs the tie back inside Hanbin’s mouth.

 

Of course, this is when he takes the time to ask, rather democratically, “Is this less 1970s?”

 

Hanbin can't do anything except squirm aggressively in response, especially since Jiwon's began angling his ass mid-air, the steel of his rings diggging into Hanbin's skin. In moments he's got Hanbin totally exposed, asscheeks spread wide apart, cock weighing heavily between. 

 

“I’m not good at discerning muffled feedback, but,” Jiwon says, and Hanbin feels his weight lifting off the bed. There’s the sound of a drawer opening behind him. Jiwon’s opening some kind of bottle. He continues one-manning the conversation. “But you look pretty great.”

 

Hanbin thinks he can just about die now. 

 

The lube Jiwon pumps into him is what Hanbin imagines cold wet battery acid would feel like, though that doesn't mean he can help trembling the whole way down to his knees while Jiwon works him open with two fingers too many.

 

“How is it?” Jiwon asks, curling probably half his hand inside Hanbin.

 

Hanbin doesn’t answer. He doesn't have the slightest inkling how. And no, he’s never been speechless in his entire life before but if anything, he’d presume that this is it. He actually doesn’t know what happened. Two seconds ago, Jiwon was this useless thing with a big dick, and suddenly Hanbin's gagged up on his knees and face with Jiwon taking him apart like a piece of meat. And see, this is when Hanbin conveniently remembers the name Jinhwan had attached to the guy Hanbin shouldn't touch with a five-meter pole. Some genius who had ditched an entire semester of quantum physics and sat the curve for the final. Some genius who's got a thing with fucking people up. It was Jiwon. Kim Jiwon.

 

This same Jiwon whose bed he's bent on his knees and shoulders over. 

 

Hanbin thinks, breathing shakily into the pillow, ten-fold more sober than before, _well, shit_.

 

“Wait,” Hanbin yelps, voice muffled. Too late. Jiwon doesn't. By now he’s already fucked into Hanbin, no warning at all, arms holding Hanbin’s legs apart so he can’t move an inch. And of course, because he's Kim Jiwon, and because Hanbin's got the karma of a well-seasoned asshole, Jiwon’s got a centaur cock to go with that dumb centaur strength. It’s ridiculously thick and stiff and Hanbin doesn’t pretend otherwise when it pounds him open.

 

“Hey, does it hurt?” Jiwon asks, grabbing a handful of his ass, craning over to deliver a peck on his shoulder. His voice curls up right against Hanbin’s ear, low and restrained.

 

Hanbin doesn't dignify the concern with an answer, but obviously that's not something Jiwon would condone. He pulls the tie from Hanbin's mouth, allows him a couple of seconds to finish coughing and drooling, and tries again. "Feels good?"

 

“Fuck, of course it fucking hurts, you fucking half-wit,” Hanbin sputters, half out of pain and half out of mortification. He’s tearing up. He’s actually tearing up.

 

Jiwon stops for a second, as if to contemplate what next.

 

What’s next is Jiwon fucking Hanbin precisely where it hurts, deliberate and relentless, at an utterly brutal pace. Within seconds, Hanbin’s reduced to a limp puddle of tears and spittle and sweat and can’t tell what’s up for the life of him. Does it hurt? Yes, it fucking does, and only more so because fuck, Jiwon’s harder each time Hanbin moans, that sadistic asshole. And does it feel good?

 

No, not at--

 

“WHAT ARE YOU,” Hanbin screeches the second Jiwon wraps his giant hand around his cock, because the next second he’s come all over Jiwon’s palms, Jiwon's fingers rubbing out obscenely wet squelches against his flesh. Hanbin swears like a sailor as Jiwon jerks him clean, down to the very last spurt, until there's nothing left but Hanbin crying for him to stop. 

 

Fine, so it felt good. More than good.

 

But that doesn’t mean Hanbin’s going to be the least bit pleasant when Jiwon unties the belt and helps him onto his back. Because, one, his shirt is dripping come, and his wrists are sore. And two--

 

“Wow, that fast? You’re sensitive, aren’t you?” Jiwon grins, eyes crinkling into a narrow, wicked smile.

 

And two, Jiwon’s an asshole.

 

Hanbin shoves his face into a pillow, mumbling something like “fucking shut up fuckface,” only it’s not as nearly compelling as it should be. Not when his cock is twitching and dribbling come over his stomach. And not when Jiwon’s lapping at his stomach, licking it clean and sucking off his fingers.

 

He’s an asshole alright, watching the anger flicker powerlessly out of Hanbin’s frown as if he can’t be more amused.

 

"Go fuck yourself," Hanbin says. The words come out a little feeble, but he's hoping the stony glare makes up for it.

 

It really does not. 

 

“I guess I’ll have to find out myself,” Jiwon says, not the least bit intimidated. Hanbin doesn't believe he would, for a second, because he's just come, and it's not good manners to do this to a person who's just come. But of course Jiwon doesn't know what manners mean. He hollows his cheeks on the entire length of Hanbin's cock all at once, hot slippery flesh rubbing against the raw bundle of exposed nerves on the head of Hanbin’s cock.

 

Jiwon only has to bob his head maybe twice before Hanbin gives in. “OK,” Hanbin says, breathless, everything coming out as a pitched garble, “Fine. I’m sensitive. I’m extremely fucking sensitive. And I’m sorry—,” and licks a thick, flat trail up from the base of his balls, “ _fuck_ ,” then swallows him all the way down, “ _so_ sorry for talking shit.”

 

Jiwon pulls away for a second, mouth wet and pink. There’s this precarious twinkle in his eye when he says, “You aren’t sorry in the slightest, are you?”

 

“I’m just sorry you turned out to be such an asshole,” Hanbin snaps back, spiteful. “Church boy.”

 

“And I’m sorry you’re going to turn out this church boy’s bitch,” Jiwon says, grabbing Hanbin by the ankles. And before Hanbin can get an objection in, he’s already been spread wide open beneath Jiwon.

 

And Jiwon, he just fucks right into him, pounding his ass open like a goddamned machine from the get go. The worst part is that Jiwon’s got him angled so that each time he thrusts, he hits Hanbin right where it makes him whimper. At first, Hanbin’s still managing a half-way decent impression of composure because, right, fisting the sheets, biting down his moans aside, he can take this.

 

But half an hour later, it dawns on him that Jiwon’s not coming, that he’s not planning to come anytime soon. The only thing that’s going to happen for the next hour or so is Jiwon trapping him there, fucking him inside out. So Hanbin gives up the composure act. And begs.  “OK, you can stop now,” he says to the ceiling. “Please.”

 

The only difference this makes is that Jiwon, ever the sadist, swells bigger and harder inside of him. At this point the only thing Hanbin can understand is Jiwon—Jiwon over him, around him, inside him, breaking him down into pieces—and he can’t move a muscle against him. He can’t move, no. He can barely breathe. All he can do is lay there and take it and whine futilely each time Jiwon fills him to the hilt.

 

“Nah,” Jiwon says, passive aggressive as fuck, “that’d be no fun,” but Hanbin doesn’t miss that starved gaze of his. He’s turned on. He’s really fucking turned on, watching Hanbin crumble into this pulpy mess for him, letting Hanbin push uselessly again him with no force.  

 

“No,” Hanbin tries again, because he really can’t take it anymore. He’s dizzy and delirious and passed oversensitive an hour ago. “No, please, no more, I can’t take it anymore.”

 

“Yes you can,” says Jiwon. He bends down and it’s impossible but somehow he’s got Hanbin bent ankles to his ears, ass totally exposed, so that each time he thrusts into him Hanbin’s whining moaning crying screaming because he _seriously cannot do this_.

 

And when he tries to touch himself, Jiwon just pins his arms—both of them—down around his legs. “No, my cock’s going to be enough for you.”

 

“Please, touch me, let me come, I want to come,” Hanbin says, or at least he thinks he says, because he really can’t hear himself. The room’s clouded with white noise, the obscene squelch of Jiwon’s cock driving him apart, the foot of the bed chattering across the floor, the grunts hitching Jiwon’s exhales. And Jiwon just keeps pounding him like this, hips slapping into Hanbin’s ass, merciless, meticulous, fucking him from deep to deeper. It adds up, gradually, overwhelmingly.

 

“Fuck, I’m going to—” Hanbin starts, but can’t remember what to say next, can’t think of anything at all. There are stars misting his vision. A tremor's coiled up tight inside of him, ready to snap loose.  

 

“Then come,” Jiwon says, looking him in the eye, “Come for me,” and fucks him in the exact spot that has his jaws lock.

 

One more thrust, and Hanbin's coming again. Noiselessly, in multiple, drawn out spurts, right over himself, hole clenching tight and again around Jiwon’s cock, so hard Jiwon lets out this throaty, depraved moan. And fuck, if that’s not that hottest thing Hanbin’s ever heard—

 

“So,” Jiwon says, pulling out so fast Hanbin feels himself gaping wide open, “Are we sorry now?”

 

And Hanbin, because he’s an idiot, gathers up his strength just to say, “Nope, not really.”

 

Jiwon has this proud inflection in his tone when he responds, “Alright, that’s my bitch.” He proceeds to fuck one, then two finger into Hanbin’s gaping sloppy hole, strokes right at where he knows Hanbin’s most sensitive. Hanbin’s entire body jolts to it, a live wire, but Jiwon doesn’t give him a single extra second before ramming in alongside those fingers.

 

The pressure alone is enough to get Hanbin coming instantly, shaking down to his knees, toes curling, a silent scream, dry and way past overstimulated. Above him, Jiwon’s watching him unravel, face blank with want. He’s already lost that controlled look to him, Hanbin realizes. Jiwon’s a right mess too, jaw slack, panting rough and uneven, almost as if Hanbin’s made him so.

 

Then Jiwon, he puts his mouth over Hanbin’s.

 

If Hanbin weren’t so close to fucked out, he’d probably have realized sooner that Jiwon’s thrusts have quickened, lost that meticulous, steady rhythm. But he is, and he’s already blacking out as Jiwon spills inside him, shuddering into Hanbin's mouth with his release.

 

Hanbin doesn’t really remember what happened after that. Which is fine, because what happened before that is enough to mortify him for lifetimes.

 

When he wakes again, the sheets are cold and sticky and there’s a tangle of limbs over his waist. Jiwon’s beside him, snoring a thunderstorm into his pillow. In the dim lighting from the streetlamp outside the window, Jiwon looks harmless. Almost boyish.  

 

A real prick of a boy.

 

Hanbin debates his options. He could leave and marinate in self-loathing privately, or he can wait for Jiwon to rub it in for him. Obviously, because he’s not an idiot, Hanbin starts to inch cautiously towards the edge of the bed, trying not to drag the sheets. There’s a guy in it he never wants to see again.

 

The only problem is Hanbin doesn’t make it two inches before the arm tangled around his waist pulls him back in. In a blink, he’s pressed back up against this hot brick wall of a chest.

 

For a few long seconds, there’s nothing.

 

Maybe, Hanbin prays, Jiwon’s still sleeping. Maybe it was just a false alarm. 

 

Just when he’s about to try escaping again, however, there comes that voice against the shell of his ear, raspy and too serious.

 

“Hey,” Jiwon says, “It ain’t over yet.”


End file.
